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墨書 Inktalez
During my student days, the playground was supposed to be an attractive place. However, shortly after arriving at Garden Middle School, many classmates began to avoid it. The reason was simple: although the playground was large enough, it was always uneven and became a muddy mess after it rained, leaving no place to step.
Fortunately, this situation did not last long. Despite the tight educational budget, the school leadership, led by my father, decided to renovate the playground thoroughly. To make the most of their limited funds, their first measure was to mobilize all students and teachers to collect pebbles and sand from the riverbank.
The school was not far from Tiao Shui River, just about a mile away. When the students arrived with their buckets and poles, forming lines as they walked to the riverbank, they were still chatting and laughing. A few daring boys even rolled up their pant legs and waded into the water, splashing around without a care, even when they fell in.
The process of picking pebbles and filling buckets with sand was quite enjoyable. Some aimed pebbles at their buckets as if shooting hoops, while others slowly moved large stones weighing ten to twenty pounds. Many girls squatted on the riverbank, selecting oddly shaped little stones.
However, playtime was always too short. At the teacher's command, everyone had to put down their fun and quietly walk to their buckets, bending down to lift their loads and heading back to school. Since they thought the journey back would be easy and not many students were used to carrying heavy loads, most found their buckets filled with pebbles and sand quite heavy. Just climbing a gentle slope from the riverbank to the road left many panting for breath. Having learned from my previous experience during Grain Delivery, I only filled my bucket with about fifty pounds this time and proudly walked at the front of the line. Without stopping for a break, I dumped my pebbles in the designated spot and went to fetch a bucket of water from the well near the cafeteria, enjoying a refreshing drink before watching my classmates stagger into the playground one by one.
For two or three consecutive weeks, we participated in this labor every other day. With over ten classes taking turns, we watched as piles of pebbles and sand grew larger in the playground until our teachers finally called a halt.
In the following days, the school hired some strong laborers from nearby areas and a few experienced masons. Although we had grown weary of those pebbles and sand due to our hard work, we didn't think much of it until a proper playground appeared before us, prompting cheers from everyone.
The playground was leveled off and covered with a thin layer of sand, transforming it into a decent-looking "sandlot." Just when we thought we could enjoy a broader space for play, the school assigned new purposes for this playground.
First of all, all boarding students began morning exercises there. Every morning around six o'clock, regardless of whether it was light outside or raining, along with Mr. Yin Bangqin's bell ringing came the sound of a march playing from my father's gramophone in his room. The duty teacher would call out from near the dormitory, urging everyone to head into the playground. Once all one hundred or so boarding students had gathered and were slightly sweating from running around, the music would change to "The Fifth Set of Radio Calisthenics Begins Now..." Students lined up in rows by class facing the high platform in front of the school gate as they followed along with "One two three four, five six seven eight," stretching their arms and kicking their legs.
Day after day of jogging and calisthenics chased away any lingering sleepiness after waking up and kept our growing bodies active. Although it became somewhat monotonous over time, it gradually turned into a habit. Even though I lived in my father's house all along, I never overslept again; I always got up on time and actively participated in Collective morning exercises.
One night when my father was away on business and I happened to borrow a novel that kept me up late reading, I found myself scrambling to get dressed when I heard the bell ring in the morning. Suddenly feeling like something was missing, I realized that I hadn't heard the gramophone yet. Quickly opening its lid and placing a shiny black record on it finally brought forth that loud and vigorous march music. Soon after, footsteps began echoing across the playground—more numerous and heavier by the moment. I approached the gramophone again to turn off its switch; then imitating my father's usual mannerisms with the microphone, I called out: "All classes line up for morning exercises," before placing another record on it carefully finding a red mark for alignment.
Before long, my father announced another new decision: as long as weather permitted, future midterm and final exams would be held uniformly on the playground. The midterm exam occurring every three years became the first instance implementing this decision.
In November's crisp autumn weather under a mild sun that wasn't too harsh, over six hundred students from eleven classes brought their own desks and benches neatly arranged in long rows. On top of the high platform at the school gate sat tables and chairs for school leaders who took their seats one by one while my father gently moved the microphone in front of him announcing loudly: "Distribute exam papers!"
Each class lined up in three columns; homeroom teachers along with two Subject Teachers quickly distributed printed exam papers in order from front to back onto each student's desk. Once I received my paper, I could no longer pay attention to what was happening on the playground; instead, I focused intently on answering questions. The first subject was mathematics; habitually starting with larger problems at the back led me unknowingly through to question one where I filled out my class name and name before looking around again—almost all classmates were diligently working on their papers indicating ample time remained. After quickly checking through my exam paper once more without finding anything needing correction, I set down my pen tidying up my triangle ruler and compass before taking my paper up towards the teacher sitting at the front row.
After handing in my paper knowing I couldn't linger too long in examination hallways anymore; I stepped onto steps made of pebble mortar on right side of high platform noticing that my father had already descended onto playground for inspection. Unable to resist glancing back at it: under sunlight hundreds of students continued writing intently while over ten teachers moved about supervising; both vice principal and headmaster stood atop high platform causing me to involuntarily recall a line of poetry—The Autumn Battlefield.
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